Phantom Feelings
by janinePSA
Summary: When Harry moves in with his uncle, Bob has to deal with feelings that make his existence more difficult than he would have liked. Because, even if there are no more chemicals fizzing around living brain tissue, this doesn't mean that the mind won't keep pretending.
1. Pain and Paternity

**I do not own any of the characters that appear in this story. I'm just playing with other people's property.**

**1. Pain and Paternity  
**

It did not come as a surprise that it was possible to inflict pain on a ghost.  
Not exactly.

Of course it was a shock, even a quite atrocious one, when you felt the pain for the first time, no doubt about that.  
But back when you had been a man, you yourself would not have thought it impossible. No, you would have been very confident, that you would find a way. It did not seem so unimaginable a task.

It wasn't the question of feasibility that had made you feel save from pain before, more a question of human scruples.  
If you had had time to get to know Justin before, well, you might even had expected it, braced yourself for it.

As it was, you were quite certain after the first time, that it would happen again.  
That it would be a constant in this relationship and that you had to brace yourself for the next time. That you had to choose a course of reaction.

Of course one could decide to not feel pain, but that also meant that there were a lot of other things you could not experience any more. Should you manage to block out the rough, harsh feeling of pain, what chance did the flutter of a tender emotion stand? And you could not bear the thought of losing those. Not after what price you had paid to acquire them.

So what one did, if one could not escape pain, one endured.  
You avoided pain of course, because everyone who could experience pain, in the important sense of the word, as something that brings anything but pleasure, would avoid pain. But when it couldn't be avoided, you endured.

You did not cower, you did not beg, you did not give any other satisfaction than that of having caused pain.  
You wondered shortly if you could fake not feeling it, but that was indeed impossible.

You did not give the satisfaction that something more than your superficial well-being had been affected, even if it had.

But sometimes when you were alone and the fire seemed to run through every fiber of your being, even if you did not actually have any fibers, your aching mind wondered. Asked the question that your tattered pride would not want to be asked, but you couldn't suppress it then:  
Could you really? If he seriously tried to break you, do you think you'd stand a chance? And you shuddered to know the answer.

There were things that could be done to a spirit. Things that would break everyone in the long run. Much darker things. Things that would never be part of a Council sentence.

The Council had sentenced you to an existence that might not be pleasant, but it was easily bearable. It was a punishment. Not torture.

But torture was possible – easily possible for someone with the right personality and abilities.

And you knew that you just hadn't given your master reason to try it. This – this careless, effortless, thoughtless inflicting of pain was just in his general way of dealing with another being. But the idea that he might ever get interested in trying to- ... That was deeply unsettling.

As long as their current arrangement was advantageous to Justin he would probably not be very inclined to, but if that should ever change …

But that was up to you, right? So you had to prevent him from ever entertaining the idea that he might just not get the long end of the deal.

So Harry.

Curse the boy. Bless the boy. He had upset the carefully observed balance. Had made you upset it.

Had made you risk everything.

Harry was more than just your master, someone to whose commands you were bound through your curse.

Long before he had come into this inheritance, he had been your pupil.  
And more than that.  
Maybe – to use an old-fashioned word from the past that now seemed like an unreachable far-away foreign country – your ward.

Yes, Harry was the closest thing to a child you had ever had.

Not that it had come to that by your own decision.  
You hadn't had any children in life and that had never seemed like a huge regret to you.

You had never had a special connection with kids and you did not share this deep felt need of some of your contemporaries – that one had to have an heir, to carry on the name, to be a legacy.  
It just never did seem very important to you. You had banked more on your deeds than your seed. If they were memorable enough your legacy would be your legacy and if that was great enough – well the name would be remembered.

Hell, in a way you had succeeded, given your current state you were in a way your own line of succession, all rolled into one ethereal being, just going on and on.

You and Winnifred would probably have had children, but it wasn't something you had been especially excited about and then it never came to that …

So you had not been particularly interested in becoming Harry's attachment figure.  
Admittedly teaching the boy seemed interesting, something new for a change. No one had ever before asked you to tutor a child.  
But that was that, even when you found yourself to your own surprise to delight in your new charge, to draw enjoyment from teaching and Harry's progress, even then you never on your own accord would have enlarged your relationship beyond that.  
You weren't interested in getting too close to someone who was to be groomed to Justin's ideals, were not keen at all to get caught in an emotional attachment.  
But Harry came to you and you did not find it in your heart to refuse the boy.

It just goes to show what kind of dreary place the mansion was for a child - that he chose a grumbly ghost as the most accessible person, a spectre as the one thing to cling to.

But then there really was no one else.  
Justin never wanted to spend time with the boy, he only wanted to use him.  
He certainly had no interest in teaching him about warmth and love and being allowed to be weak sometimes and all the things the soap operas suggest a family is supposed to teach a kid.  
And Harry clearly sensed the harshness in this man with the cold hard eyes that only ever asked after his progress and never gave him any appreciation for it, just kept pushing, never enough.

Anyway he was out most of the time, always something more important to tend to.

Apparently he did want an heir, someone to carry on his legacy, someone to step out of the shadows only after he had passed away, reluctantly no doubt.

Or maybe just a lackey. Someone who was under his influence. Enough so to do his bidding.  
He had a lot of those kind of people already of course, but he also wanted someone who had the ability to do what he wanted him to do too, and those were rare. The combination probably non-existent.  
Something valuable.  
But not really the kind of asset you poured any emotional efforts into.

And so it had happened that you had practically raised the boy.  
And thus you could not help but care for him deeply.

And that meant you were ready to do anything in your admittedly rather limited power to make sure Justin did not succeed. Even though that meant you upset the balance.

True, back in the real life you yourself had been the kind of sorcerer just after Justin's fancy.  
Practicing black magic and ambitious to have the world bow to you.  
The black was highly addictive and you had been knee-deep in it for years.  
Still spending a century inside your own skull made for a quite efficient withdrawal treatment, even in the case of such an advanced state as yours.  
Of course you had not been allowed out of the skull back then. Only for rare questionings by the Council of that time. The Council would never had the spirit of a black mage roam the living world to give his counsel.

But what they hadn't told you and what you had not seen coming at all was, that once your soul had been cleansed of the black you could get in and out of the skull on your own accord. Not too far away from it and only as long as the one owning you didn't order you otherwise, but still. It was a big improvement.

Spending more time out of the skull also meant that you got to spend more time taking the form of your former body and that was actually the only thing that kept you going on. One could not create a ghost without tricking some unconscious but essential part of the mind into thinking it still had a body. If that did not happen, there was nothing that could keep it in place. It started drifting and if it was denied to cross over to next world, or even tied to a special place, by a punishing curse for example, it would just start to dissolve and after a certain period of time would be gone altogether.

The part of the curse that stopped you from dying had not really been the worst part. It had been a chance. If you managed to reject the black you would not dissolve into nothingness but get the chance to exist again in a way. And maybe even to try and pay off a portion of your considerable debt. Who knew maybe one day, many centuries from now, you could have cleaned your slate and be able pass on to the other side.

Of course, serving as Justin's subservient spirit, one did not get many opportunities to gain karma points.

**TBC**


	2. Protectiveness and Prickling Stuff

**_Big thanks, to the person who left a review, for taking the time to comment. It is nice to get some reaction. :)_  
**

**2. Protectiveness and Prickling Stuff  
**

You had always tried to make sure Harry did not learn the of Justin's true character while he was still a child.  
On the one hand because that would have been horrible thing for the child to live with on top of the pile of horrible things he already had had to put up with in his young life.  
But also – and this reason grew more important when Harry grew older - because to your own utter delight and Justin's constant vexation Harry turned out to be already quite stable in character and his code of ethics was rather too passionate for his own good.

If he had learned of his uncle's true nature, he would have confronted him irrationally, he would not have fled and hidden somewhere and if Justin understood that Harry would never be what he wanted him to be - a loyal ally - but rather an enemy, he would not think twice about getting rid of him. And with all the black up his sleeve, Harry would stand no chance. Or if he wanted to, only by using the black himself and that was another fate you would not bear to see befall the boy.

There were thing you literally could not tell him, bound by Justin's command. The real cause for his father's death was one of them.  
But there were other things you had to hide deliberately, like the hurt that was caused you for example because Harry in his barely restricted emotionality would not have been persuaded to let it slip. He would have wanted to do something about it and Justin would never have forgiven you if he thought you the reason for a rupture between him and his nephew.

The first time Harry caught on to the secret was already back when he was still a boy.  
When he first came to the hall he had been shy, frightened and of course sad beyond consolation, his father's death had been very hard on him and seeing no one he could relate to in his life, he shut those feelings away deep inside himself, often crying the nights away, sleepless.

But after a few months he had come to open up a little more. He talked to you, finally able to carry his grief to someone.

The circumstances were supporting. Justin had been away from the hall for a long time. It was a blissful period of peace and quiet and small humble pleasures, like a young boy's laughter ringing out for the first time in those solemn walls.

When Justin came home late one evening the casual and nearly absent-minded wave of his hand, that brought the pain, had been expected. It was his custom after a longer absence like this. He liked to make sure it was not forgotten who was the master, even when he was away. Justin did not want you to get the feeling you were on a loose lash, so he made sure to reinforce the established pecking order the moment he was close enough for the spell to work.

No doubt he would have done it arbitrarily from anywhere else in the world had he been able to.

Harry was asked into his uncle's study and to be sent to bed afterwards and you were glad that you could just retreat to your skull to sit out the pain in privacy.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, because being wrapped in pain meant you lost the feeling for time. While it lasted the pain seemed never-ending and afterwards you would find it hard to believe how much time had indeed passed while you did nothing else but experience pain.

Still somewhere in that short moment stretched into eternity, there was the distinctive patter of naked feet on the stone-floor. Strange what one picked up if high-strung and made sensitive by pain, you did not think you would have noticed usually. And then Harry called out to you.

"Are you there?" It sounded like someone trying very hard to hold back desperation from his voice and you just could not ignore him.  
Well, Harry was not Justin, he was a kid. To him you could fake not feeling pain. "What is it, Harry? Why aren't you asleep?"  
The boy swallowed. His eyes looked swollen, as if he had been crying.  
"Nightmares." he whispered. "I- please don't leave me alone!"  
There was urgency in that plea. Obviously he felt that having nightmares wasn't going to cut it as a reason for keeping people from their nightly rest, not even ghosts, who strictly speaking didn't sleep. But a little rest there and then was what any sentient being needed to keep being sentient, and while Harry didn't actively know that, he seemingly felt he was intruding.  
And he was therefore very much afraid that he would be sent away, when you could tell - by the look in his eyes, his pale face, his shivering body - that he needed comfort desperately. Something was upsetting him very much and he had no way to ease that turmoil.

"I won't." you managed to pronounce while your mind insisted that your vocal chords were being inhibited by a tightening throat. An old habit that got triggered as you impotently looked down on this picture of misery and cursed your insubstantiality.

In the beginning, when you found yourself to be a ghost, you thought that the worst part about your inability to make physical contact with anything were the little things. The profane, mundane things, like lifting a fork or kicking a stone. Actions that every idiot could easily accomplish but you with all your knowledge and superior intellect could not. It was pathetic, abasing, a severe blow to your pride.

Later as the reality of what it meant to be mortal faded ever further away, your priorities changed. Hunger, thirst, carnal desires were needs that had completely gone from your mind. You knew they once were powerful but you could not recall what they actually felt like other than somehow uncomfortable. The fulfillment on the other hand, the taste of fresh fruit in your mouth, an exquisite wine on your tongue, the warmth of a woman's body pressed against your own, those things grew ever more colorful in your memory, equally inappropriate to the actual experience but bigger, much bigger, swelling and shining with pleasure. Ever since then you had thought that what was worst loss were the sensual experiences that you had never cherished enough and that you now had to forgo for all eternity.

But you had been wrong again. Right here in this moment you realized that nothing, no other event in your long-lasting existence that made you painfully aware of the boundaries of your cursed form of being had ever, ever, hurt as much as the fact that you could not give this miserable, choking boy a hug. That you could not take him in your arms to comfort him.

This realization hitting you unexpectedly made you lose the forced control over your spectral features. A new spike of pain hit you harshly, the impact forming ripples that spread out all over the field of space that for the sake of your mind's coherence mimicked your body and counted as you-space. And why did it have to be so big, why did there have to be so much room for pain, when you did not even really possess a single one of this myriad of nerves the mind claimed it was getting fevered reports from.

And Harry must have seen your face contort in agony as he cried out anxiously: "Are you in pain?"  
Damn, you let it slip. Hurriedly you slid the poker face back on and forced a benevolent scold. "Ghosts can't feel pain, Harry."  
"You looked like you did." the boy insisted sounding worried and not quite convinced.  
You winced a little at his accurate observation and tried to dismiss them: "Just memories."  
Surprisingly that served to calm the boy. "You have bad memories too?" he ventured strangely hopeful. "That won't let you rest at night?" Big eyes clung to you imploringly. He needed to hear that he wasn't alone in his troubles, that it happened to other people too, that it was part of life.

"Yes." you said. "I do. It's ok, Harry. It will get better."  
He looked relieved, sniffed, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his pyjamas, and then cast his eyes downwards. "Uncle Justin doesn't think so." he murmured indistinctly. "He- … he scares me. I was not scared during the last weeks, when he wasn't here. But now I am again." He chewed on his lips looking unsure if he should go on. Before you could think of something to reply he looked up at you again. "Is it bad of me to feel like that?"  
"No." you rushed to answer and then searched for a secure course to go on from there: "Harry, you-, it's not your fault. Don't be scared. It will get better."

The boy started to move towards you, than stopped, hesitated for a moment and finally wrapped his arms around himself as if he was cold. "May I" he started in a small voice, sounding sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "Yes?" you urged him to go on. The words were now barely audible, but luckily you had excellent hearing in afterlife. "Can I stand where you are, so's I can know that you are there?"

An unusual request. No one likes to share space with a ghost. It feels awkward and not exactly comfortable.  
A cool sensation of pins and needles.  
'Like sandpaper being dragged over the inside of your skin.' - as a late acquaintance of yours once put it so graphically.  
'Like that feeling when tinfoil touches your teeth.' another one had said. This meant nothing to you. There had been no tinfoil, back when you still had teeth. Real teeth, not some memory turned spectral.

And it felt awkward to you, too. No matter how many walls you drifted through or how many times you just did not bother to bypass even the most solid pieces of furniture, it still never felt quite right to share space with another life-form. As soon as you noticed the fact that you did, you got that weird prickling sensation and that did not only apply to living people either. The stupid mind-thing as always.  
Considering that you were already in pain, the prospect seemed even more uncomfortable.

But it was all you could offer in place of physical comfort and if it was good enough to make the boy feel better you did not have it in you to deny him.  
"Sure you can." you answered, gliding onto a sofa, so the child could get his bare feet off the cold floor.

Harry followed you and curled up on the leather, right in the place where you had just sat down. He pressed his face into the cushions to avoid looking at you and lay very still. You spent a few hours like this, feeling absolutely awkward and also in tremendous pain.

Luckily Harry fell asleep very soon, so you could stop trying to keep a straight face for his sake.  
However you did not dare to leave him until the morning dawned.

**TBC**


	3. Preoccupation and Perplexity

**3. Preoccupation and Perplexity  
**

Nightly visits from Harry were not uncommon during his first year at the mansion. Mostly he just wanted someone to talk to, to not feel all alone and to avoid having to face his nightmares again.  
But they got less frequent as time passed. Sharing your space was something he also was less and less inclined to do as he grew older and something he avoided altogether by the time he had reached adolescence.

Never again had he happened to stumble in on you when you were under the influence of Justin's pain spell and you were thankful for that.  
Nevertheless his discord with his uncle grew more and more apparent.  
Justin had started to lecture Harry in his views of the world more often recently and often these lectures ended with Justin mirthlessly ridiculing his nephew for his stupidity and naivety and Harry falling dead silent and withdrawing in on himself.

Justin was not pleased at all with Harry's development. Suddenly and without any announcement he disappeared again for weeks.  
Eventually he returned at the end of the sixth week, by nightfall. Still the sky seemed to darken even further with his arrival.

You dreaded the effect of his pitch-black mood on his returning-home-gift to you.  
But even more you dreaded the outcome of the summons Harry received from him.

Instead of retreating as you had always done, to take the pain in privacy, you anxiously hang around the hallway to see if you could find out what Justin had planned for the boy.  
Your master gave you a calculating look, probably wondering if he had forgotten the spell or if it had not set in yet. It had set in all right, still you tried to hide it as good as possible. Justin saw right through the act of course, but laughed maliciously and faked surprise: "Hey, you look like the last guy in the food chain who didn't get his fill but is too timid to draw attention to himself. Are you expecting something?"  
You tried to answer but he slapped his forehead and cut you off: "Oh, did I forget? I'm sorry." He took his hand up and made a very decisive screwing movement.  
For a moment there you though you would pass out, but that was only a brief mercy, one that gave way to all-embracing pain only seconds later. You could not see properly but Justin's voice cut through the fog cold as ice: "I have plans with Harry now. You are not to come near the study for the rest of the night. And that is a command."

You staggered back to the drawing room, pushed by the curse-backed instruction and weakened by the pain and then spend the following hour fretting and listening out into the silent hall frantically.  
He wouldn't hurt him, he had groomed him and fostered him all these years. He wouldn't give his investment up just like that. Or would he? With Justin everything was possible.

No sounds of argument could be heard. Was that good or bad? Hard to tell.  
It certainly kept the tension alive.  
Maybe you should have urged Harry to leave. The boy was old enough, he could get by on his own.  
It would not have been easy of course and probably you would have never seen him again, but surely that was better than being either fought by Justin or lead into dark magic by his side.

Finally there was the sound of footsteps entering. "Are you there?" asked Harry's voice and you just had to come out and make sure he was all right.

He saw it the second you took form. "Are you in pain?"  
You tried to act haughty. "Please Harry, ghosts can't feel pain."  
But he was not a kid anymore and he had been taught well. "I could probably come up with four different ways of doing it by the end of the week." he estimated and then gave you a bitter look. "So can Uncle Justin I'm sure."  
Denying it was a lost cause. "Probably more than four." you grumbled.  
Harry's eyes blazed. "Why did he do that to you? What did you do?"  
As you hesitated searching for an adequate response, he jumped towards the door. "I'm going to smash him!"

"Harry! No!" Your tone was urgent enough to make him halt and turn around. But could you convince him, that he must not enter a direct confrontation with Justin? Certainly not for your sake? His face looked angry and determined, but you had to try. "Don't get involved in this, it was my own fault. I messed with a formula he wanted."  
"You made a mistake?" he asked and you shook your head. "No, on purpose."  
"Can you do that?"  
"Sure." you asserted. "Of course, it won't go unpunished."  
Harry gave you a skeptical look. "You knew he was going to do this?"  
Here at least there was no need for a lie. "Yes."  
"But why-?" the question hang in the air and you answered smoothly ere he could find out what exactly it was he had wanted to know.  
"What is a little pain compared to freedom. I can follow all the orders I am given like a slave or I can choose to disobey now and then and save my dignity. It is worth the pain, I think."  
"But Justin-" he started and you cut him off: "It was my own choice. I knew the consequences of my actions. I'm going to be fine in the morning."  
It did sound reassuring, even to your own ears, and you hoped like hell that last part was true after the second helpings you got yourself today. But it seemed to do the trick. The young man sagged and slid down to the floor, hiding his face in his hands. "I was wondering," he mumbled, "if I should move out of here."  
Your mind in its usual delusions informed you that a certain myocardal muscle it was certain existed had just quickened its contractions. "Why?" you inquired carefully.  
"You know. Uncle Justin and I, we don't get along very well. He has certain ideas about the way I'm supposed to think and I don't like that so much. I was starting to suspect that he was planning something seriously sinister."  
"Well, maybe it is not such a bad idea." you agreed, taking care not to sound too eager. 'Actually just what I was right now desperately wishing I had advised you to do weeks ago.' you thought but you didn't say that out loud.

Harry looked at you. He seemed tired, weary, smiled weakly. "Yes, but then, where would I go? What would I do? I didn't learn anything but magic and I could never be a stage magician like my father, I know that."  
"Well, a young man with abilities like yours, you should be able to get by, no?" you tried to encourage him, but you couldn't really think of anything yourself.  
"I don't know." he answered sounding a little disinterested. "Anyway, just tonight Justin announced that he is planning to get me a place on the High Council. I guess that isn't a bad idea. I would like that. I would have to continue my studies for a little longer, but as soon as I'm finished and admitted to the Council – well, he could not tell me what to think any longer, right? I would be independent. I just have to hold out a little longer, but then I would have a livelihood of my own. What do you think?" He finally looked at you again, searching your counsel.

For a moment you were overwhelmed. A seat on the Council? That had been Justin's plan? Obviously he had decided to make the best out of his nephew's unappealingly virtuous character and use him to infiltrate the Council. Well that was indeed a better prospect. The Council would certainly see to it that Harry would not stray from the righteous path, they had a way of being very persuasive.  
And Justin would have a very hard time targeting a member of the Council.  
And last but not least, as long as he wanted Harry to get on the Council, he could not temper with him too much. The admission-procedure was scrutinizing. Someone with a tendency toward the black would never make it. It was perfect.  
What exactly Justin wanted to achieve with this coup you weren't quite sure. Surely he knew as well as you that it would be infinitely more difficult to convert Harry after he had become a Council-member.  
Maybe he thought he could do it. Maybe he just speculated on insider information. Whatever it was – it was good news for Harry. And for you.  
"You are absolutely right." you told him. "It would be stupid to waste a chance like this. I'm sure you can bear to live here a little longer if that would be the result."

He gave you a sympathetic grin: "Yeah, just like you can bear your punishment, huh?"  
That caught you a little off guard, but you managed to give a dry laugh and answer "Yes. Just like that." with your voice void of emotions.

Harry left then, but he turned round at the door and smiled a little bashfully when he added: "You know, not everything here is bad. I would have missed you."  
And he slipped out of the room before you could reply to that. He probably knew anyway. That you were glad to have him around a little longer too. Even if his security was more important than your egoistic wish to keep him close.  
But the miraculous turnout that his future finally looked secure and bright and that you still got to spend more time with him, too, supported your mind through a night of extravagant pain.

**TBC**


	4. Perdition and Pleasance

_**Last chapter, thanks to everyone who read this. :)  
**_

**4. Perdition and Pleasance  
**

You anxiously awaited Harry's return home. Today was the day. He was to meet up with the Council, to take up his seat on it. And finally he would be free from Justin's ever looming shadow in his life. He would leave the mansion. He would leave you behind too.

Still you had worried too often, too much about him, while he had been in his uncle's care, for you to not await this day with impatience. It would be a relief to know him out of Justin's reach.  
Still it was hard for you to take that he was returning home only at the very last moment. It would be a hasty farewell.

Hiking in South-America – what a curious suggestion on Justin's part that had been. Why did he want Harry out of the house for such a long time just now? What was he planning?  
He certainly didn't confide in you.  
But he had seemed to make arrangements for something huge and it had made you extremely nervous.  
Now however, the day had come and nothing suspicious had happened. And he couldn't possibly do anything today, right? Not with the whole Council around.

But somehow you felt cold. And odd sensation for someone who has no to connection to temperature whatsoever and it took you a while to figure out what it was supposed to convey. The little bumps that had appeared on the spectral equivalent of your skin finally gave it away. Chill, that was it. Stupid mind, where did it get these ideas? But somewhere deep down in the layers of your brain simmered the dreaded suspicion that this one wasn't entirely unfounded.

Finally Harry arrived and you just watched without showing yourself while Justin was with him.  
And you saw, what Justin did not see, that Harry noted the ring on his finger. The ring that had belonged to his father. And a dark feeling of premonition came over you.

Just as you feared Harry started to investigate the moment that Justin left him. Not this. Not now. Not when they were so close to freedom.  
You tried to stop him, but of course it was no good and that whole shining palace of hope you had been building over the last years came crashing down in one huge and mighty blow when Harry caused his uncle's death using black magic. Even if it had not been on purpose, it meant a death sentence by the Council and you had failed to prevent it.

You did the only thing left to do, urged him to run and hide while you would receive the Council and do everything it took to convince them that Harry was not at fault.  
Because you knew that when it came to black magic the Council had a tendency to cut off heads first and ask questions later. So it was safer for an already dead man to greet them at the scene of crime.

Self-defense you told them and no intention to kill the man. You saw it all.  
And that was true, luckily, because they had ways to find out if you were lying.

You pleaded for him, speaking of his difficult childhood and how he had still turned out to be a good person. How he deserved a chance to prove himself. And that was true, too.

But of course that did not stop the skeptical questions from being asked:  
Why did Harry - in the rush of the moment - choose to defend himself with a voodoo doll of all things?  
Why did he have everything handy just when a self-defense-situation arose?  
And why did he even know how to use it, what exactly have you been teaching that kid, Bainbridge?

Lots of questions that could be answered, but not everyone approved of the explanations.  
It was a close call, there were many who felt that Harry was too much of a risk to let him go free.  
But in the end, a small majority agreed to let him live, on probation so to speak.

And then the mansion stood empty for days and you had no means of finding out what was going on, until finally Harry appeared, thanking you stiffly for getting him off and telling you that he had inherited everything and was planning to leave it all to rot. That he was going to move into a small flat in the city and try to scrape a living of whatever opportunities might come up.

For a second there you felt happy. If Harry had inherited everything, that meant that he had inherited you. That you could stay with him.  
But then you noticed the disgust in his eyes as he looked around the hall and only now really took in his words from before: he rejected his inheritance. He wanted to leave it all to rot. Well, surely that did not include you, right? Of course not, the idea was ridiculous.  
Suddenly you felt nervous. You looked to Harry who had fallen silent and was staring at the wall, gazing into nothing. There was something he wasn't telling you.

"Harry?" you ventured. "Is something wrong?"  
Slowly he tore his gaze from the wall and looked at you. His eyes were wet, swimming with anger but also a little pain.  
"You knew!" he declared suddenly. "All these years. All the time I lived here, you knew he had killed my father and you let me live with him, unaware."  
The fury and sense of betrayal in his words seemed to pull the ground away from under your feet and even if you did not really need any ground to stand on you stumbled, lost your balance. "I could not tell you. Justin commanded it. The curse." you tried to explain in a small voice but the look he threw you, shut you up.  
"I figured as much." he spat. "But even if you could not tell me this exactly, how could you let me live here? How could you let me live with the man who killed my father? Why did you not even try to tell me to leave?"

You felt like crumbling, shrinking. When you could finally speak, your voice sounded beaten. "Your uncle was a very dangerous, very unscrupulous man. I feared for you. He had plans for you and he was not one to take the spoiling of his plans lightly. He might have tried even harder to pull you to the dark side, might have used force on you or just tortured you out of spite if you were of no other use to him. If he had thought you a dangerous witness after exposing you to his dark secrets, he might even have killed you."

Harry had gone very pale listening to your words. "Do you really think he might have done something like that?" he asked in a low threatening tone.  
You realized that that must be a very hard truth to hear. "I'm sorry." you answered. "But that was what his true nature was like. I never wanted you to learn it like this. I only wanted you to stay safe and … well, as happy as possible."

"Happy?" the young man repeated incredulous. "Now that is rich, even coming from you. Living happily ever after with the guy who killed my father and would turn me into a black mage after his own image or, if he felt like it, kill me too, or torture me, without giving it second thoughts. Now who could reject this lovely offer. What an ungrateful brat I was to complain."  
Harry had talked himself into a rage and you tried to make him stop: "Harry, please."  
You succeeded in breaking his litany, but he turned to you, his eyes still unforgiving: "How could you?" he asked. "How could you let me live with this monster? I trusted you! You were the only one left that I trusted and you were lying to me all this time. Preventing me from seeing what he was!"

"It was too dangerous." you tried to explain anew. "I was too afraid of what he might do. I wanted to keep you safe from harm and I-" you faltered when you realized that in the end you had failed him, because you had been too intimidated by Justin and the last words of the sentence fell out empty: "I feared him too much."

You stood still, defeated, and only when Harry had reached the end of the room you realized that he was leaving. Without you.  
There was no room for pride at this point, you called after him: "Aren't you going to take me with you?"  
He didn't even halt his steps. And then he was gone.

When you heard footsteps approaching that night you thought it was your wishful imagination. You didn't even for a second allow that tiny seed of hope to bloom, the one that had burst open unbidden at the first sound that reached your ear. You crushed it immediately.

And indeed when the footsteps ceased, nothing followed. Perhaps someone was stealing you. Or the Council took you in so that you would not fall into the wrong hands.  
Pah, as if that hadn't already happened. Whatever it was, you couldn't care less.

But then there came a tentative voice: "Are you there?"  
Harry. Could it be true? Well you certainly wouldn't find out by staying in this skull.  
When you saw him sitting on the floor you didn't know what to say, but he gestured for you to sit next to him and then took the parole. "I thought about what you said." he started without further introduction. "About what kind of a man my uncle was and that he frightened you." He paused and looked down on his hands before he continued. "You know, I felt that you had betrayed me by sullying the memory of my father. You know, not only did his murderer go unpunished, but I, his only son, for whose sake he had died, was living with this same murderer like I was his own son."

You tried to interject a comment but he waved you into silence and carried on. "But I suddenly realized that my father probably wasn't the only one I cared for that Justin had harmed. Not the only one you stopped me from avenging." He suddenly looked at you. "You were afraid of him, right?"  
You could just nod, unsure what was to follow.  
"Which is absolutely understandable." Harry affirmed. "Considering that you were utterly in his power and had no means to oppose him. It is only natural, considering what kind of person he was, that someone in your position would have to be very careful. "  
He stopped for a moment as if wanting to give that time to sink in and added: "Far more careful surely, than messing with demanded formulas just to state a point."

It took you a moment, but then you understood what Harry was alluding to.  
"It wasn't your choice, was it?" Harry asked compassionately. "It wasn't even your fault. He hurt you just because he could."  
It didn't sound much like a question but you hadn't contributed much to the conversation up to this point and now Harry seemed to expect something.  
"Yes." was the only thing you could bring yourself to say. You realized you really did not want Harry to know, but it was too late now.

Your monosyllabic confession apparently sufficed, Harry did not dig any further. "I'm sorry." he said.  
"It's not your fault." you answered, your words soulless and edgeless like plastic. You didn't want his pity. "It wasn't unbearable. It could have been worse."  
"No." he injected softly. "No, I meant, I'm sorry for this morning. The things I said. It wasn't fair to you. I didn't understand. I was blind with fury. I thought that you had betrayed me, that you hadn't cared about me, just about yourself. And it hurt so much, not because what you did had been so horrible, but because I cared so much for you."  
He choked and you tried to relieve him, "It's ok."  
"No." he answered decidedly. "No, it is not ok. It was stupid of me, I should never have doubted you. You lied to me when I asked you about these … punishments … although you knew that if I learned the truth, I would have done everything I could to stop it from happening again. You could have looked out for your own safety, but you cared more for mine." You could not stop yourself from arguing: "Or, one could say, that it was just too risky, that I feared worse if we tried anything."  
"No." Harry answered. "You could have told me where to hide you. To find you a new master who would be able to protect his property from Justin's grip. Anyway-" he bit his lip.  
"I know it is true. I always knew. It just took a little jolt to remind me. When I realized what he had been doing to you, all this time- I wanted to kill him all over again." He fell silent.

You sat in silence for a while. "So, I'm sorry." Harry finally repeated, sounding a little awkward.  
"It's ok." you replied. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you."  
"You took good care of me." Harry answered and stood up. "It was Justin who ruined my life. And I am not going to spend one more second in his house." He looked at you. "Let's go home."

And you nodded, your body suddenly feeling all light and warm, even though it didn't actually exist. That annoying mind-thing again.  
Though come to think of it, it wasn't that annoying all the time.

**The End**


End file.
